


Single filing jointly

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Invested [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Implausible financial practices, Love and taxes, M/M, not shippy til the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-27 07:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13876284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: Caranthir is always happy to help his financially challenged cousins during tax season - for remuneration, of course.





	Single filing jointly

“Thank you so much for this,” said Finrod, hovering over the drafting table as Caranthir set down his case of parchment, three bottles of ink, and the green emerald eyeshade the dwarves had made him. “I was loathe to put you out, but last year went so terribly… I never would have suspected it of Fingon.”

“Classic proponent of big government, that one,” said Caranthir. “Typical progressive monarch! Proclaims himself for the people and then proceeds to rob them blind.”

“I don’t mind taxes as a  _rule_ ,” said Finrod, stacking the account books his treasury had sent up. “I just forgot, sort of, last year. And Fingon was apologetic but he sent the auditors  _anyway_  and it was  _so_  stressful and they took my favorite sapphire brooch as a tax penalty.”

“Savages,” said Caranthir, adjusting his eyeshade. “You are an idiot though, Ingoldo.”

“Thank you.”

“You were just going to pay a flat percentage! Take the standard deduction! File as an independent liege lord!  _Idiot._ ” He looked around as he uncorked the first bottle of ink, a violent scarlet. “Don’t you want your accountants up here?  _You_  don’t need to stay, I’m sure you have a throne room to adorn with your presence or something.”

“No, please, I’d like to watch you work.” Finrod slid into the chair beside Caranthir and resolutely tied back his hair with a blue ribbon that would have perfectly matched a tax-deductible sapphire brooch. “Where do we begin?”

 

* * *

 

Many hours later, Finrod woke with a start. “Where am I,” he said, blinking awake with his hair mashed to the side of his face.

“You’re in tax season,” said Caranthir. “Or were. I just finished.” He was in the process of binding some parchment with red ribbon and Finrod hastily got up to look.

“Oh, Moryo, you really are remarkable. And so quick!  I - I…” His voice trailed off as his eyes dragged down the document. “I have  _how_  many dependents?”

“Six. Directly, anyway. I’ve listed three hundred subjects as indirect dependents.”

“But one of the six is…”

“Don’t worry about the details.”

“You’ve listed the River Narog, Caranthir.”

“Where would it be without you?” Caranthir tied off the final knot and slid the parchments into a leather sheath. “Don’t ask questions.”

“And where would  _I_  be without  _you_?” Finrod smiled and took the papers from him.

“Audited.” Caranthir yawned hugely and stretched. “Where’re my quarters? I need to sleep.”

But Finrod led him not to the guest quarters in the east wing, but closer by; to the royal chambers in the tower over looking the beautiful - and dependent - River Narog.

“Truly,” murmured Finrod, as he helped Caranthir out of his robes. “How can I ever repay you?”

“I thought my rates were clear, Felagund. If the numbers confuse you you can ask one of your accountants to explain them to you in simple words, but I neither negotiate nor accept lateness and I expect payment no later than - ”

“The gold is already in your saddlebags,” said Finrod, rising up on his toes and letting his nose brush against Caranthir’s long one. “I’m talking about your  _bonus_.”

“Oh, that.” Caranthir dropped the rest of his clothes without ceremony and grabbed Finrod around the waist. He dropped Finrod down to the bed, Caranthir’s eyeshade rolling under the dust ruffle. “The usual sexual favors will suffice.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. 'Sexual favors,' he says. Not 'getting my quarterly lay from my long distance bf.'  
> (But that's what it is.)


End file.
